


a world like you've never showed me.

by halbermarco



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dysfunctional Family, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Insomnia, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:55:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halbermarco/pseuds/halbermarco
Summary: Marco pushed himself up on his elbows, tired hands looking for the phone without opening his eyes. As the bright light of the screen hit his eyelids, Marco reluctantly cracked them open to find out who was calling him at this ungodly hour.Surprisingly enough, his best friend called. His best friend, Jean, the first person whom he told of his insomnia every day when they met up, and the only person he knew of that would never call him at night if it absolutely wasn’t an emergency. His pulse quickened in anxiety when he took the call at last.“Jean? Is everything all right?”---In which Jean has a panic attack in the middle of the night and is in need of a friend.





	a world like you've never showed me.

**Author's Note:**

> lmao as usual if you read this before i edited it just please keep in mind that i wrote most of this at night and that i am aware it sucks (update: edited it, still sucks a bit)
> 
> still gotta warn you about the following, if you haven't already looked at the tags:  
> i'll advise to proceed with caution if you are triggered in any way by  
> \- panic attacks (more or less descriptive; i really cannot evaluate yet how 'bad' of a read it is, but for your own safety, if you are easily affected I do not want you to find out for yourself in case it backfires; i don't wish you harm),  
> \- homophobia (referenced f-word, but otherwise it is solely implied)  
> \- abusive relationships (implied, not descriptive)  
> \- insomnia (heavily referenced)
> 
> also, yes, i am aware of the existence of maps on people's phones but let's just set the premise that a) jean was too stressed to think about that & b) no mobile data was available. for the sake of this story, don't think about this part too much.

At 3:24 am, Marco’s phone lit up with several messages, one after the other popping up on the small screen. Additionally, a buzzing sensation slowly transformed into an irritating noise which Marco, an already light sleeper, did not welcome in his restless state.

He tossed and turned in his bed, already scolding himself for putting his phone in such close proximity before going to bed a few hours ago – but since his main focus had been on getting some well-needed sleep, he found himself unable to care about making better decisions in the future.

Although, now that the vibrations were long and consistent instead of short and separate, Marco decided to reconsider throwing his phone against the wall.

It wasn’t like it had actually woken him up, anyway, but Marco still couldn’t help the rush of annoyance seeping through his bones. Sleep, after all, hadn’t come easy to him for a few weeks now, and the exhaustion had begun to eat at his mind when he was trying to work, so he was grateful for every bit of rest he could get.

As uncomfortable as he was now, he had reached the closest thing to sleep when the buzzing began. It wouldn’t go away just by ignoring it, and now that Marco was awake, there was really no point pretending he could go back to his slumber. If there even was something to return to.

Marco pushed himself up on his elbows, tired hands looking for the phone without opening his eyes first. As the bright light of the screen hit his eyelids, Marco reluctantly cracked them open to find out who was calling him at this ungodly hour.

Surprisingly enough, his best friend called. His best friend, Jean, the first person whom he had told of his insomnia, and the only person he knew of that would never call him at night if it absolutely wasn’t an emergency. His pulse quickened in anxiety when he took the call at last.

“Jean? Is everything all right?”, Marco asked his friend, his voice raspy from lack of use. A long silence followed his words, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Between the two of them, it wasn’t unusual that Jean didn’t talk as much as Marco did, huffing and scoffing when appropriate and smirking like the idiot he was whenever he felt a little too smart for his own good. Marco hadn’t thought that the quiet could mean something other than their shared contentment – it was a frightening new experience.

“Jean, buddy?”, he questioned again, cautious now. He felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, only for his heart to be broken immediately when Jean answered him in a small voice, “Marco?”. He almost didn’t hear him.

“Yes, yes, it’s me, what’s wrong?” Marco’s voice took up a calm, soothing nature, careful not to startle the man on the other end of the line. Having known his best friend for the better part of his life, he was alert whenever Jean showed any signs of distress – a long lasting silence only interrupted by a cry, almost inaudible, cracking at the simplest of words. 

Marco had come to love the way Jean said his name, how he rolled it off his tongue so easily, yet always in a cheeky manner because that was what years and years of friendship would do to you. But this—Marco didn’t know hearing his own name could hurt so much.

Jean did not respond for another few seconds. When he did, it wasn’t more than a non-sensical mumble, “God,… Shit, Marco, I—” A car driving by interrupted his distant rambling, and Marco feared the worst - Jean wasn’t in his apartment.

“Hey, Jean,” Marco coaxed, “tell me what’s wrong. Did something happen? Do I need to get you?”

“I-I don’t know.”

Sitting up fully now, Marco tried again, “Where are you?”

Once more, “I don’t know.”

Now that had Marco bolt straight up. He was growing more and more concerned by the minute and the thought of Jean lost in the middle of the night and on his own definitely didn’t sit right with him.

Then, as Marco wanted to respond, a rough voice came through the receiver, “I-I… I don’t have a fucking clue where I am, Marco”, Marco heard him take a shaky breath before he continued, sounding just as lost as before, “and I’m… I’m cold. I don’t think I can feel my fingers anymore? I c-can’t tell anymore.”

It didn’t take long until Marco stood in front of his wardrobe, scrambling for a jacket or a sweater that would fit Jean, phone in one hand, the other frantically moving back and forth. Successful in his search, he rushed into the hallway of his apartment, putting on a coat and shoes, all the while balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear.

“Marco, I am so sorry.”

With that, Marco stopped dead in his tracks to put his phone securely in his palm, pressing it against his ear, and insistent voice ringing even in his own head, “No, no, don’t be sorry.”

But Jean kept rambling on, “You are like, my last resort or some shit, but I’m so sorry to wake you, I know you barely sleep as it is, I’m so sorry—” Marco almost stumbled over his own feet at the sound of a sob from Jean’s throat, clearly having been suppressed before.

“No, no, don’t you worry about me, I’m okay, all right? Everything is going to be fine, I’m coming to get you right now. But you’ve got to do something for me, can you do that, Jean?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll—I’ll try.”

“Okay, Jean, can you describe your surroundings for me?”

“Uh, I, I think I’m out of town somewhere? But there’s a-a gas station, no lights on, uh, guess it’s closed, huh,” Jean answered hastily, looking around with frantic movements. His eyes were accustomed to the darkness surrounding him, but despite the street he was walking on, a black forest and the gas station, there were no significant landmarks. Or maybe there were, but Jean wasn’t able to see them. Perhaps everything was so obvious, and he just couldn’t see anymore.

Sensing an upcoming panic, Marco spoke, firm and gentle and secure in his words, “All right, I am coming to get you, can you hold on just a little bit longer, for me? Can you do that?”

Jean nodded, sitting down next to the gas station’s entrance, “Yes. Just. Please come quick.”

“I will, I’ll be there faster than you think.”

Marco had already hurried down the stairwell of his apartment building, and moved even faster to his car. On the whole way down, Marco did his best to keep Jean’s mind occupied, telling him about his day at work and what he had to eat, everything seemingly trivial and irrelevant but simple enough. No need to think it over, just facts and everyday happenings Marco always told Jean anyway.

When he started driving, his phone on speaker, he kept on rambling to Jean, making sure he got his attention every time to check if he was still all right. Soon, the driving itself became a subconscious activity, and Marco hoped he knew the streets of this stupid town well enough to get to Jean unharmed.

As if he could read his thoughts, Jean interrupted Marco’s ongoing story, “Marco?

“You… You’re paying enough attention, right? To the street? I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. Au contraire to a certain someone, I am actually capable of driving by the rules of the law, as I am supposed to,” Marco teased playfully, grinning a little.

“I am a good driver, thank you very much,” Jean mumbled back, and Marco thought to hear a little smile through his phone.

“Scaring me half to death, most of the time, yes.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and Marco worried he had said something wrong. “Jean?”

“I’m sorry.” – “No, Jean—” – “What kind of friend am I? I’m sorry you need to drive through the darkness in the middle of the night… for a lousy friend like me… who can’t even make up for-for it. I mean—what do I ever do for you, man? Wh-what do I give you other than misery and broodiness? It’s not like I’m enjoyable or fun to be around since I’m a fucking insensitive asshole to everyone, even you.

“I don’t deserve your devotion or sympathy, I don’t deserve _you_ ,” Jean cried helplessly, his heart aching with complete hopelessness.

“But you… you keep doing this for me, you keep being my best friend who gives, and gives, and gives…”, Jean mumbled on, voice growing quieter towards the end, finally dissolving into a sob, “And I never… I never give anything back.”

“That’s not true!” Marco yelled in his empty car, interrupting Jean. He already felt tears pricking at his eyes, and anger flaming up deep in his guts. Whom he was angry at, he had yet to figure out – but whoever made Jean feel like this had to pay, and made Marco consider putting aside his angelic demeanor.

“Please, Jean, try to calm down. This is just your anxiety speaking right now, you know all you’ve said is so far from the actual truth. You wouldn’t believe how happy you make me every day, how much you mean to me…”

Marco’s concentration started to dwindle the more he talked himself into the emotion he was feeling, so he felt immense relief when he found himself at the gas station Jean was at and had a good enough look at him. He was crouched down near the entrance, his phone clutched between his hand and his ear.

Marco couldn’t have left his car faster than he did, hurrying to Jean’s side and talking insistently to him, but he was shaking from the sobs. So, when he didn’t respond, Marco wrapped his arms around him, feeling Jean curl up in the warmth of Marco’s body.

“I’m sorry, Marco,” Jean cried. Marco only held on tighter.

 

* * *

 

It was roughly 4 am when they returned to Marco’s flat. Both robbed of their energy, they stumbled up the stairs sleepily, Marco holding Jean by the waist because there was no way he could ever let go of him if it wasn’t strictly necessary. Even while driving back, Marco’s right hand had found itself caressing Jean’s several times, assuring him of his presence. 

Despite that, it had felt like an eternity. It had been quiet the whole time as Marco did not dare say a word to keep them in a small, but safe space of ease and comfort. Jean had seemed to need it, so Marco wouldn’t even think about denying him such a seemingly simple thing.

Now, exhausted and without any spirit, Marco helped his friend into his apartment and into his bedroom, carefully setting him down onto his bed. Jean was already wearing a sweater Marco had brought him, but it was obvious he was still cold.

He looked for more comfortable clothes for Jean to sleep in, found old pyjama bottoms and an old shirt, and silently gave it to Jean who was looking up at him with sad wide eyes as if Marco was trying to hurt him with the clothes. As a result, Marco felt another pang of anger but decided on displaying a small smile – contempt was not what Jean needed that night.

When Jean took a closer look at the pants Marco had given him, he saw turtle-like figures printed upon them and felt his lips tug upwards ever so slightly. Usually, Jean would tease his best friend about his favorite tv show from the days of his childhood, and even more so about the ‘Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ merchandise Marco still kept locked up deep down in his closet. Given the current circumstances, Marco was happy to see it producing a positive reaction out of Jean, albeit a small one.

“You go change in the bathroom, maybe freshen yourself up a little. Just… call me if you need anything, all right?” Marco asked, having knelt down in front of Jean. He had placed a tentative hand on Jean’s cheek, thumb stroking across the soft, but irritated skin. Jean nodded, standing up to go to the bathroom.

In the meantime, Marco started preparing the bed. Once again, his thoughts went wild before Marco could stop them, but he kept his hands occupied before he could do something about the mixture of bad feelings inside of him. Jean needed him to be calm, so he couldn’t let his thoughts wander off like that.

When Jean returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, the freckled man had to bite back a smile at the look of Jean in those silly pyjamas, overall in his clothes from top to bottom. Had it been a different time, Marco would’ve been a lot more flustered to see him like this, after all, he looked particularly adorable. This display of vulnerability was rare coming from Jean, although he couldn’t have planned for it.

“I think now would be the best time to sleep, don’t you think?” Marco asked him quietly, reaching out to take his hand in his as Jean silently approached him. He received a subtle nod in response , small as it could be. He led his best friend to his bed, but only after engaging him in another heartfelt embrace. The silence lay over them like a thick blanket, comforting and warm and full.

Although Marco found himself rather reluctant to let go of Jean, he had to eventually – he made sure to keep eye-contact as he did so, putting his heart on his sleeve. He whispered, “I’ll be in the living room if you need me. You take the bed, all right? We’ll talk in the morning.”

Marco smiled gently at Jean one last time before he made to leave.

A strong and insistent grip on his wrist and a sharp outcry of “No!” stopped him in his tracks. Jean sounded desperate, and anxious, and timider when he mumbled on, “Your bed is big enough for the both of us, you don’t need to take your shitty couch.”

“It’s really no big deal… and only for a couple of ho—” – “Don’t leave me!” Jean cried, looking up in fear, and Marco saw tears in his eyes once more, “Please.”

What other choice did Marco have than to stay with him?

“Okay,” he assured Jean, taking his hand back in his own, “I won’t leave you, I promise.”

Slowly, they laid down together, barely a hair’s width between their bodies. They would be sleeping in close proximity, aware of each other’s breathing and every movement. Marco tucked Jean’s head underneath his chin and put his arm almost possessively around Jean’s slender waist. “Okay?” He sensed him nod against his chest and sigh in content.

If it had been anyone else, Jean would’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable, out of place. But here, in Marco’s arms, tonight, he felt right and complete – protected, too, as if Marco was the person to shield him from any harm that would ever threaten to befall him.

Jean realized then; it did not matter whether Marco ever reciprocated the romantic feelings Jean had for him or not, he would always be the one Jean would receive comfort from – a kind soul, incredibly patient, accepting and enduring.

“Try to sleep, you’ll need it,” Marco said, closing his eyes slowly, “I am never going to leave you. I promise.”

With every quiet affirmation, Jean relaxed more in his hold, “Thank you, Marco.”

Drawing back a few inches, Marco pressed a kiss to Jean’s forehead, “I’ve got you, love.”

With that, it was easy to fall asleep - accompanied by the feeling of safety, and soothed by the presence of the person he loved.

 

* * *

 

Marco woke to an empty space beside him, bed still warm where Jean had been lying, although there was no sign of the man in the room itself. Panic settled in his stomach for the second time that night, and Marco shot up in his bed, checking his phone for messages and the time.

They had barely slept 3 hours, so Marco doubted that Jean had had enough sleep to leave, in addition to the condition he was in. So, Marco thought hopefully, he couldn’t be too far.

Jean was out smoking on Marco’s small but sufficient balcony. Or, at least, he intended to smoke. He had awoken briefly and immediately felt disoriented, if so in a cozy and warm sort of way. With the realization of his whereabouts had come a series of unpleasant memories from the night before.

His heart had picked up a quicker pace, so he felt more trapped than protected by Marco’s embrace – he was unwilling to wake him up, though, so he had carefully untangled himself from the mess of limbs they had created and left the room. His thoughts were on the cigarette in the pocket of his jacket.

Now, sitting in the cold air, Jean took a deep breath to calm his nerves as best as he could. Evidently, he missed the warmth of Marco’s body around his and tried to simulate it by rubbing his arms. All to no avail, but better than nothing. Then, when he was just about to lift the cigarette to his mouth and light it, a soft, raspy voice interrupted him, “I thought you were going to quit.”

The owner of the voice stood in the doorway, arms crossed to shield himself from the cold.

“’S my last one,” Jean promised, lighter already turned on. Marco, insistent as ever, was faster, though – he took the cigarette straight out of Jean’s mouth, broke it into two pieces and threw it in the corner of the balcony. Too tired to fight his best friend on this, Jean sighed in defeat and settled down on a small bench, with Marco beside him after a few seconds.

“That was totally unnecessary, Freckles.”

To his surprise, Marco scoffed in response, “I disagree, Jean. I will not share my bed with you or kiss that pretty mouth of yours if you taste and reek of ashes and death.”

Jean’s heart fluttered a little, but he decided to focus on something else, “I don’t think death would be, like, an accurate description for this.”

That only gained him an exasperated sigh and a reprimanding, “I’m done chastising you, you won’t listen anyway.”

Next thing Jean knew, Marco laid his head on his shoulder, asking, “Why’d you come out here?”

“To smoke, obviously. Didn’t think you’d appreciate it very much if I smoked in your pretty apartment.”

“Which is true, but not what I asked for.”

“I… I woke up. I don’t know. It all came back to me, so I was just—stressed. And you know me, I’m a stress smoker.”

Marco laced their fingers together at that. Jean knew what that meant and braced himself for the question that would follow, “Are you ready to talk about it?”

_Breathe in and out, then answer._

“I came out to Mr. and Mrs. Kirstein. On accident.”

And Marco knew what that meant. He recalled countless instances when Jean had taken refuge at his house back in their teenage years, complaining about his parents’ ignorance and ‘sticks up their asses’. Growing up, Jean had always been sure that he wouldn’t want to fit into his parents’ strict mindset, and he made certain of rebelling against it as much as he could without getting kicked out.

Now, he was 25 years old and talked to his parents on the rarest of occasions, and yet, he still would have never considered coming out to them – he figured it wasn’t their business to know, and he got enough shit for being bisexual every day without his folks’ comments piling up.

“Didn’t take it very well. Figures.”

 “Tell me what happened,” Marco demanded gently, prepared to give Jean a way out if he needed it.

“’Was Mister Kirstein’s annual birthday dinner, and I originally didn’t plan on going but Hitch asked me to be there for her. She lost her job the other day, so she needed a buffer. And what causes more turmoil than the older brother who is considered to be the worst fuckup in the Kirstein family line?” Jean smirks, “And oh, let me tell you, I caused some mighty ass trouble last night. At least I did before…you know.”

Jean took a while to continue, Marco waiting patiently by his side while his thumb stroked against the back of his hand.

“Turns out Hitch couldn’t make it. She was in her right mind to stay away, because when she told me I had already talked to several elitist assholes about the failure that is my life and Hitch would’ve been suffocated by every word they spewed – I can’t believe she still deals with them on a daily basis, completely out of her own free will.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Marco asked, frowning.

“It was hella fun to rile them up. And besides, there was some delicious food I couldn’t possibly pass up on.”

“You could’ve asked me to come. No way I would’ve let you go through this on your own, you know that,” Marco assured him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“Yes, I do. But I didn’t want to bother you or subject you to the Kirstein’s wrath. And before you say anything – you’ll see why it was for the best that I didn’t ask you to come,” Jean mumbled, voice growing glum.

“…Continue.”

“At some point, they started talking badly about your family. They’re so much better, after all, with their respectable demeanor and estate and oh boy, all the money! And they’re off badmouthing you, laughing about you like I’m not just standing right there,” Jean felt himself getting angry, rage flooding him.

“I was about to snap. I mean, no one, _no one_ , insults the people who have showed me more love in my life than they ever did. But would you believe it, they have something else to say. About you. Do you know what they called you? They called you—”

“Don’t! Please don’t say it,” Marco interrupted him harshly.

“Oh, fuck, I… fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Just… what happened next?”

“Well, seeing as you’re 100% of my impulse control, I yelled at them, quote, ‘well, congratulations, you’ve got yourself another one of those’, unquote. It sounds so stupid now. But I guess I did my job as the buzzkill of the party, my sister’s redundancy was nothing compared to the reveal of my sexuality,” Jean scoffed, “and my fath—Mister Kirstein, he did not want his precious reputation ruined by this, so he tried to shrug it off as a simple joke. I mean, this is what his son always is to him - a joke. But of course, I wouldn’t have it. I was not going to stand there and let this man belittle you or me, when all he ever does is this exact same thing because his reputation means more to him than basic empathy or his own children.

“Long story short; I completely lost it. He threw me out. No, actually, he kicked me out and disowned me of the last bit of money I might’ve inherited. Man, Marco, you should’ve seen me, it was the ugliest I have ever behaved – and that’s saying something. I bet they considered calling the police on me.”

Marco lifted his head from Jean’s shoulder, unable to find any words appropriate for this kind of situation – he would be lying if he didn’t expect Jean’s father reacting poorly at some time in their future, especially with Jean’s mouth having tendencies to run wild and out of control. But he didn’t expect Jean to react the way he did.

So, he questioned, “how did you end up on the other end of town?”

Jean shrugged, “I don’t know. I was upset and furious and I wanted to punch something. Walked to the middle of nowhere and didn’t stop once, then some time I realized that I didn’t know where the fuck I was. Panicked. Called you.”

After another bit of silence, Jean whispered softly, “I also told him that he can go to hell if he ever talks about my boyfriend like this again.”

Marco perked up at that, smiling faintly but not looking at Jean, “Your boyfriend, huh?”

“Uh, yeah… I don’t know why I just told you that,” Jean said in a small voice, scratching his neck nervously. Marco just bumped his shoulder playfully.

“Don’t worry. I think this is a conversation for another time,” he smiled at Jean, who couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at his best friend. No one had to know how Marco took his delight in the way Jean’s cheeks blossomed with color. Then hesitantly, he smiled back, and agreed, “Yes, yeah, I think you’re right. We should… we should probably get some more sleep. Especially since it’s really fucking cold out here and your bed is… it’s really, really warm.”

Marco stood up after that, reaching out a hand for Jean to take, accompanied by a question, “Shall we, then?”

Jean took the offered hand and let himself be pulled up by him, never letting go of it on the way back to Marco’s bedroom. And he hoped he would never have to miss the feeling of Marco’s hand in his, or Marco’s arms around him.

This time, when they were lying in bed again, covers pulled up to their shoulders, they didn’t immediately fall back asleep.

“How are you feeling now, Jean?” Marco asked him sincerely, “I don’t really want to remind you, but I was horribly worried for you last night. It was a bad one this time.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m kinda stuck between a big ‘Fuck those guys’ and the need to cry, again,” he quipped sadly, but laughed nevertheless, if so certainly strained. Marco put a hand on his cheek before he said, “Fuck those guys.”

Jean smirked as he replied, “Yeah, fuck ’em.”

They laughed shortly, and it felt good. Despite the circumstances. When they stopped, Marco sobered up, “No, but seriously, Jean. I need you to know that… no matter what those people try to tell you, you know you’re perfectly fine the way you are. And… should you ever need someone to tell you that – here I present myself. Whichever way you want me.”

Boldness struck Jean, and he surged forward hurriedly, placing a light kiss on Marco’s lips – a brush of lips, nothing more, nothing too exciting, yet it had both men close their eyes in pleasure. Jean didn’t pull back too far and whispered, “Every way you’ll let me have of you,” against his lips.

It felt a lot like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> if you actually liked it perhaps leave a kudo i would appreciate it very much bc i originally handwrote this in 2016 and never got to typing it up and making it better until now so,, yeah good bye


End file.
